


He's Not the Only One ~ Demonic Doppelganger

by Alexdoesthings



Series: One shot before canon [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexdoesthings/pseuds/Alexdoesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is trapped in his own head. With only himself. But not exactly.<br/>He always wondered what hell was like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Not the Only One ~ Demonic Doppelganger

**Author's Note:**

> I have a fic idea inspired by the end of season 3 episode 16 about who is giving a killer orders and why it has Stiles's handwriting. This is part of it but I don't know if it will ever come to anything.

It was dark and Stiles didn’t know where he was. He was walking, slowly, turning his head in all directions looking for anything. The only thing he could see was his own body cast in muted grey and a thin mist that clung to the ground around his ankles and swirled away with every step he took. He could feel something off in the distance though, just outside his field of vision. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck and put him on alert but there was no movement in the dark expanse.

He turned his head to look behind him but there was nothing there either. As his neck turned though, he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. He jerked his head forward again and saw a hazy humanoid figure in front of him. He stepped cautiously toward it and the figure copied. He was almost nose to nose with it when it finally came into focus. It was his own reflection, looking back at him both baffled and wary. He relaxed with an exasperated sigh.  He turned his head again to look into the blackness.

He saw the image out of the corner of his eye mimicking him but there was something odd about it. He turned his head back to survey his mirrored self. It looked confused now but no different than before. He raised his hand and so did the reflection. They reached for each other and when their fingers touched Stiles knew something was wrong.

The opposite set of fingers were warming the glass under his, not like the localized gentle warming of a single person touching a glass surface, but two people reaching for each other through a window pane.

Stiles eyes traveled slowly up the arm of his reflection, up the curve of his neck, and finally fell on his face. The reflection was smiling of it's own accord. It was a smile that sent chills down Stiles’s spine and set off alarms in his head that screamed danger.

Stiles horrified look intensified as mirror image tilted his head and his eyes went completely black like the iris had swallowed them whole and Stiles pulled his hand from the glass and shot back a step, heart racing. He wanted to run but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on the thing behind the glass that wore his face. They stared each other down, or at least Stiles stared it down, though he was sure the other thing was watching him too even if the eyes were nothing but black pits now. He felt a sick fascination watching that other version of himself.  There was something evil about it but there was also something seductive in the feeling of barely contained devastation.

“I like your friends,” the other Stiles said in a chilling voice Stiles had never heard come out of his mouth.

The mention of his friends made Stiles tense. He didn’t like this thing and he didn’t want it anywhere near the people he loved.

“I think they’d look good in red,” it continued conversationally, sweeping a hand out of one side.

As though called forth by the gesture, screams erupted around Stiles. The faces of his friends appeared, shrouded in a blood red mist as they screamed in agony behind the glass all around Stiles. Those in front of him, on either side of the other Stiles, caught his eyes first, all in their torment separated from him and each other by their own glass boxes. Lydia’s hands were pressed tight against the glass as her eyes begged him to do something. Scott was clutching at his own head as he slumped against the barrier. Allison was trying to fend off whatever attack she was under with fear and defeat in her eyes. Stiles eyes jerked back to his doppelganger as he heard his Dad scream from his left.

“Stop it,” he demanded desperately, frozen in place with agony raging in his peripherals.

His double was smiling as though all of this were a mildly amusing joke. Stiles couldn’t tell for sure but he felt those black eyes watching every reaction and drinking it in.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” it said pleasantly.

The images of his friends disappeared in an instant as the other Stiles turned and started to walk away from the glass. Stiles tried to rush after him and stop him, but he hit the barrier and panic started to flood his veins. The other spared him a small smirk but there was no change in his stride.

“WAIT,” Stiles screamed, pounding on the glass, but the other paid him no mind, getting smaller and hazier with each step.


End file.
